


A Headmaster's Secrets

by HeavyShoegaze



Series: The Life and Lies of Harriet Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 'part of a larger verse, But he's not perfect, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad and Sweet, Shorts, Sorta a reimagining of Harry and Dumbledore's relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 12:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyShoegaze/pseuds/HeavyShoegaze
Summary: Professors weren't supposed to have favorite students, Albus Dumbledore knew, and Headmasters doubly so. A teacher could reasonably expect to see hundreds, maybe thousands of students, each unique and special in their own way. And all destined for their own kind of greatness. It wasn't proper to pick one and raise her above the rest, and it was a professor's duty to resist such temptations.But then again, Harriet Potter was never an ordinary student. And Albus Dumbledore had never truly been one to resist temptation, especially where the heart was concerned. So perhaps in this one case, he might make an exception.





	A Headmaster's Secrets

_Professors aren’t supposed to have favorite students_, Albus Dumbledore thought, looking at the ruins before him, at what was once a humble cottage in Godric’s Hollow. _And Headmasters doubly so._ He had hundreds of students as Professor of Transfiguration, perhaps thousands as Headmaster of his dear School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if he tried, Albus was certain he could remember the names of every student he ever taught, all their faces as they first saw the Great Hall or sat underneath the Sorting Hat. They were all destined for greatness in Albus’ eyes, though some certainly greater than others. And the greatness of some students was a terrible thing to behold.

But despite the fact that a Professor should love all his students, the careful and the rash, the boisterous and the quiet, the clever and the… the ones who took a little more time to get there…. Despite it all, Albus couldn’t help but find himself drawn to two students from his old House of Gryffindor. Bright as the sun, but kind too. A bit rash at times, but such was the way of youth. And so very full of love, and of life.

Death did not suit James and Lily Potter.

“Nor did it suit the McKinnons, or the Prewitts. Or the MacDonalds,” Albus muttered, to no one in particular. He peered down at the bundle in his arms, at the little girl quietly staring up at him. “But Death seemed particularly ill-suited for you, Harriet Potter.”

She’d hear it a lot over the course of her life, Albus knew it immediately, but Harriet did look very much like her father. She had the same messy, jet-black hair, the same nose and dimples, the same dark complexion. But her bright green eyes were all her mother’s, that was for sure. As little Harriet Potter looked up at him, Albus could almost swear that Lily Evans Potter was still alive. _And perhaps she does yet live, in a way. And James too_. For who could say what lay beyond the veil? And was this little girl not proof that the ones we love never leave us? Albus looked around the ruins of the cottage. _Something_ had defeated Tom Riddle.

“They called Lord Voldemort the greatest dark wizard who ever held a wand, and me the greatest practitioner of the Light,” he said to the baby girl in his arms. “Perhaps that was their… _our_ greatest mistake. For what greater folly than hubris? Perhaps it is only right that the great and terrible Lord Voldemort would meet his greatest and most insurmountable rival in a one-year-old girl. That a baby should wield the kind of power that old fools like me spend a hundred years chasing in futility….”

Albus paused his musings as he remembered the purpose of their return to Godric’s Hollow. As he walked out of the ruins and down the street, Albus brushed aside Harriet’s bangs to look at the one part of her not left behind by James or Lily. A black, bloody scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, peeked from under her hair. All that was left of Tom Riddle, one last mark of his cruelty and hatred. _Would that that black mark be the only thing left of Tom Riddle_. But Albus had long since learnt that hope was strongest when tempered with caution. Tom Riddle had grown to power under his watch, as Grindelwald had before him. “And never again will the children bear the cost of my foolishness. Should Tom have ambitions of returning to power, I shall stop him. Like I should have done long ago. I swear it on my life.”

Albus swore this to Harriet, his voice quavering with emotion and force of will, but to his surprise he found that the girl had fallen asleep to his words. He’d been so carried away by his tumultuous thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed. “Humility, Albus,” he reminded himself with a chuckle. “Would that we could all be so untroubled.”

It was quiet after that, and the two arrived at the graveyard after a few minutes of companionable silence.

With a heavy heart, Albus searched for the two most recent tombstones. Rushed additions, but Harriet deserved to see her parents interred before her exile from the Wizarding World. There, with a laurel between them, lay James and Lily Potter, in their final rest. Carefully, as to not awaken his young companion, Albus knelt before the two.

“I should apologize, I think,” he began. “For many things. For my blindness, for my willingness to let you fight my battles. For the injustice of a world where the young must pay for the sins of the old. There is little, if anything at all, that I can ever do to earn your forgiveness. All I can promise you is that I will not fail your daughter as I failed you.”

Albus shook his head. Really, there was little point to coming back to Godric’s Hollow. Harriet deserved to say goodbye, yes, but James and Lily were dead, and nothing would change that. Them and Arianna, gone. Yet more ghosts to haunt him, reminders of his failings. Would that he could see James joke and laugh, or Lily roll her eyes fondly… or Arianna’s sweet, unconditional smile one last time..

“But there’s no use dwelling in dreams. The past is the past, writ in stone. Your future awaits, Harriet Potter.” And with a last, sorrowful sigh, Albus Dumbledore said one last farewell to his favorite students and disapparated into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, this is a bit of a reimagining of Dumbledore. So he's not perfect, but he's not some kind of manipulative monster. I think that's a more interesting characterization than full on bashing.


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